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There’s a lot of things Jean simply can’t forget.
In fact, most of her memory is intact to the smallest of details. Even as her mind fights to make room, tears and rips at her seams to move on, to continue in her cycle of immortality, to not be affected by something so minuscule. A drop in the ocean of her vast life, and yet it taints and roars, paints the waters so that it may never be the same.
And so, she remembers. She wants to. Begs to. Needs to.
It had been a lonesome night, peacefully sitting in her study. The vampire had moved the castle to a far away land, close to a cursed domain no mortal would ever dare come near. Skulls in old pitchforks, bats and rats swarming about, it was perfect. Tranquility, peace, far away from the detestable human kind– nothing to disturb her.
And yet, there was a knock at her door. Two knocks, many knocks, violent and harsh, the sound of breaking metal echoing across the forlorn walls. Her lock was forced open, long doors spread wide with a resounding creak. Amongst the shadows, Jean appeared, eying the mortal soul that dared step in her territory. Her castle. And yet the human walked with such a carefree attitude, as if they owned the place.
“I can see you.” Said the mortal– a young looking woman, probably around her thirties. She had a knife in her hand, blood poured over it along with lines that showed its efforts against Jean’s lock. She wore a coat, not long enough to cover her whole. Underneath was a tucked white shirt, long pants hiding under thick boots, smeared in dirt and… other things. It was making a mess of her beautiful red carpet.
Jean frowned, stepping away from the darkness and looming above the small creature, roughly two feet taller than the other woman– and yet she didn't flinch, didn't move an inch, didn't grip her dagger and didn't avoid her gaze. No, she stared directly at her, as if she alone could easily tear her apart by simply staring into her soul, boring holes into her lifeless eyes. There was no fear, no nothing. Just a woman with determination in her gaze, strong enough to start and end wars. It made Jean take a step back, wondering if perhaps she was a messenger from one of the other vampires in the court– if not a morphed vampire on her own. Still… the air ran thick.
They stayed there, unmoving, and the girl tsk’d in annoyance as if dealing with a troubling child.
“You know, I could show you some manners.” She laughed, lively and filled with mockery. Jean had never been so insulted in her centuries of life. Angered, she dove down, gripping at the collar of her already ragged coat and pulling the mortal’s neck towards her, fangs dangerously pressing against her pulse point. Still, she was met with no resistance, no writhing or whining– as if the gods were testing her. She felt it emit from her throat, vibrations beside her; Tut, tut.
“You’re only proving my point here.” She teased, that same insufferable smile on her lips, a throaty chuckle.
“Foolish mortal,” Jean hissed, pressing her fangs harder against her, so close to breaking skin.
“Do you know who I am ?” She asked, rhetorical.
“Do I look like I care ?”
In an instant, the vampire felt a small hand fist against her hair, yanking her away from the mortal’s neck and pushing her like a rag doll. As if Jean wasn't the Lionfang, the Gunnhildr heir, the Lord of the Vampire Court. There was so much to fear, so much to dread , and this woman– breaks into her home, mocks her senseless and has the audacity to lay a finger on her, say it doesn't matter because she doesn't have it in her to care .
Jean stands startled, watching as the woman fixes her hair in annoyance.
“You’re Lord Gunnhildr.” The woman states, not leaving much room for a reply.
“Everyone knows that. I didn't track down your stupid castle for years just so you’d remind me.” She speaks peeved, not caring at all for the fury in the vampire’s eyes– for how easy it would be for Jean to rip her apart. And yet, she stands bewildered, shock tainting her monotonous features. She had never felt so alive.
“You… You tracked this place… How?”
The woman smiled, knowing the vampire was at her mercy now. She stepped closer, her turn to yank the immortal from her cloak, bringing her face closer to her own, whispering seductively.
“Science.”
She pulled away with a giggle, turning her back and walking around the spacious hall as if it were a museum, loud steps echoing through the tall walls, all in the entrance of a place Jean believed to be the death bed of any mortal. Her castle. Her domain. No human… no being is allowed to ever step in this place, not without her explicit invitation– any less mock the host and come out alive.
Despite it all, Jean simply. Stood there. Bent at the waist, frozen in her place, eyes blown wide, watching as this unknown woman scorches around her house, humming her approval–
The girl turned again, stifling a laugh through a gloved hand, striking green eyes glinting in mischief.
“At least stand straight, love. You look silly.”
Jean shook her head, groaning, frowning, standing tall once more and dashing for the woman’s throat. And yet… as she ran, she halted at her feet, hands brushing against skin but not quite there . All as the woman hummed again, smiling as if it were all a part of her scheme. She leaned forward once more, booping the tip of the vampire’s nose with her finger teasingly.
“Teach me how to be a doctor.”
…What?
The girl didn't stutter, didn't care, staring at her blankly and fully serious about her request. As if Jean would take orders from such lowly being.
“Ah ah ah, before you start,” She tuts, taking her time to fix the wrinkles on the collar of Jean’s black cape, smiling like the devil. “Let it be known just how rude you’ve been towards me thus far. Don't you vampires have a strict rule about manners? And yet here you are, not even caring for how long I’ve traveled, trying to feed off my neck at any chance you get– I mean really now, at least offer your guest some tea.”
Jean’s frown grew– didn't know it was possible. She snarled, her hiss almost animalistic, fangs fully on display– the sight of many nightmares and tall tales.
“You are not my guest . You are an intruder . You broke into my castle . If between us, one is breaking the code of cordiality, it is you .”
The woman hummed, placing a finger under her chin and putting a show of thought, staring at the luxurious ceiling before meeting her gaze, smug look on her face.
“Yet you’re the only one bound to those rules, aren't you?”
Jean stopped, hiding her arms under the cape, stepping back meticulously and glancing down in shame.
“So it is tea you want.”
“Among other things, yes.” The girl nodded, smiling charmingly as she took a step for every one Jean took back. Crowding her. Jean never knew a human could pose so… dominantly, a sheer display of will and power , far larger than Jean’s own despite it all being words in a clever mind. As she looked into those emerald eyes, a forest untamed and hiding so much under a thick facade, the vampire could only gulp, could only retreat further and feel their muscles tense, her lungs begging for air as her circulation stopped, held in a trance through that intensive gaze.
Realizing her defeat, Jean sighed. stopping at the center of the hall and extending her arm towards the grand stairs at the end of the path, inviting.
“That could soon be arranged.” She spoke through gritted teeth, the malicious aura that had followed her through all her years easing against the mortal’s clever soul.
The woman gave a smile bow, relishing in her victory as she waltzed her way for the stairs without a care in the world– all of Jean’s body snapping back into place, lungs taking the much needed air, righteous in her body once more. Still though, Jean felt uneasy, stepping behind the mysterious woman–
She didn't even know her name!
Jean coughed, slowly making her way closer to the brunette, her arms crossed behind her back as she lowered herself to the girl’s height, bent at the waist much like she had been forced to earlier. The memory made her shiver.
“You have yet to announce yourself.”
The mortal stopped in her tracks, contemplating. Before Jean knew it, she had turned her head, smiling like a satisfied cat that just caught its prey.
“Lisa Minci.”
Ever since that day, ever since Lisa Minci barged into her home, her life, it was never the same.
Over the tea, Lisa had explained her true purpose. The people in her town had grown sick, she needed the knowledge to brew the right medicine. Even if she studied individually, what little she could gather in her years of life would never compare to the ancient archives of forgotten civilizations in the vampire’s library. The knowledge of immortals.
She confessed she had nothing short of her gratitude to offer, but still cracked a small deal. Amongst other things, she grieved over how pathetic Jean’s life was. So trapped in her own home, so alone, the creature of a night that will always be forgotten once the sun rises. Lisa offered her humane knowledge, her humanity, her kindness, told Jean to travel across the world– to live , thrive , all of those things centuries had rotten away for her. It sounded childish, idiotic, not even worth the exchange. Still, the woman’s determination and bravery was… admirable. Jean felt indebted to her in some way, as if her efforts were to be rewarded. And so, she indulged her. Her lone travels soon joined in the warmth of her companion, from mere business partners to friends, then to lovers, until they swore their lives to each other, until Jean promised to never forget her, never leave her. And throughout it all, nothing would ever compare to that first encounter, the biggest testament of Lisa’s character, the biggest gift Jean could’ve ever received.
But that… that was a long time ago.
Now, a millennium has passed since that sorrowful day. Thousands of years since her lover was crudely taken from her, burnt at the stake like an animal . Over time, her fury had dispersed, her sadness as well, and her memories all fog to an undeniable dust.
Now she sits surrounded in a room of what she once knew, paintings adorning every inch of every wall, the face of a dead lover staring into her soul– never to compare to that first day she broke into her home. She stares and admires, then weeps and battles, battles for her mind to give her one last second, one last breath, something better than this blur in her head. Now, she can no longer paint her, no longer see her like she once had. Pulling out the first she had ever drawn, back when she was still around, she puts it beside her latest work. As the two faces glare at her, she fists her hands in her hair and screams in agony, pleads and wails, falls on her knees begging for an ounce of relief. Her image has changed over the years, her hair had never been so dark, her eyes weren't so bright, she never wore the silver bracelet her mother had given her, never wore a blue ribbon, never kept the rose under her ear, never dressed in dark tones and her smile had never been so lifeless. She tears the painting apart, throws it about and watches as the other portraits tremble, watches how different they all are, how every single one becomes more of a blur than the last, and then a final glance to that first draw, presses the canvas so close to her no longer beating heart, whimpers, lets herself fall apart.
“I miss you,”
“My love”